


Humiliation is All She Needs

by BrightneeBee, Draughtofpeace, jalapeno_eye_popper, PixieKisses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Creampie, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Graphic Sexual Content, Humiliation kink, Multi, Oral Sex, Public Humiliation, Sexual Education, Sloppy Seconds, Student-teacher dynamic, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26999428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightneeBee/pseuds/BrightneeBee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draughtofpeace/pseuds/Draughtofpeace, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalapeno_eye_popper/pseuds/jalapeno_eye_popper, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixieKisses/pseuds/PixieKisses
Summary: Snape bends Hermione to the breaking point, and provides Ron with with someremedial education.(Snape is not fucking Ron, and Ron is not fucking Hermione. Hermione/Snape penetration only.)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 12
Kudos: 121
Collections: Page 394 Discord Collection





	1. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE**

Undoubtedly, her incessant need to please others would always be her most gratifying attribute. Always eager to do his bidding. Eager to hear him say, “Well done.” It was quite easy to cut her down to size with just a few words. At times, a glare alone would cause her to emotionally unravel. He took any opportunity he could to belittle her; in the corridors, during lectures. It had become a dangerous game of how much he could deride her before she burst at the seams. 

But it appeared that the more he demeaned her, the more pliant she became. 

“Remarkably _mediocre,_ Miss Granger. You are giving Longbottom a run for his money.” Snape sneered, looming over Hermione’s worktable. His hands were held tightly behind his back as he peered into her cauldron. Continuing as he nodded towards the orange emulsification that was bubbling and spilling over the table, he called to the other students, “Come around, come around.” 

Hermione could feel herself shrink as students began to circle, sniggering under their breath as Snape’s black eyes gleamed with satisfaction. 

“Did I not ask the class three times to add only a pinch of glowstone dust? Are the instructions not clearly written on the board, Miss Granger?” Snape spoke deliberately, savoring every word. 

"Yes, sir." Hermione answered in a diminutive voice, tension rendering her a statue in that moment. "Of course, sir." 

"Then one must assume that you simply do not know how to _read._ Or," Snape paused, a cold, sharp edge to his voice that practically vibrated in the air right before he struck. He was like a viper in that respect. The man had his own, unique approach to cutting an individual down to mere atomic particles, his tongue was that precise. He started again, "Or, possibly, you purposely ignore instructions, deeming yourself far more _knowledgeable,_ as the insufferable know-it-all you are. Which is it, Miss Granger?" 

Hermione's shoulders caved forward, as if she may curl up into herself. The resonating timbre of his voice played through her senses, sizzled and shocked her deeply – an electric jolt that seized her lower half in fits. She could feel the humidity of his breath coasting along the delicate contour of her cheekbone, and smell the smoky, herbaceous fragrance that always clung to his robes. If he continued, she'd be dripping down her thighs, and reduced to tears from the amount of effort she was putting into biting her bottom lip to prevent a breathy moan from escaping. 

"Speak, girl!" 

Did she risk enraging him for the sake of more verbal punishment? Or did she relent, submit, and hope that the moment passed quickly? 

Her knickers were bloody soaked through, and her clit was _throbbing._

All Hermione wanted was for the lesson to be over so she could find a quiet corner of the castle and tend to her dripping pussy. She was so close to cumming. 

"I–I must have misread the instructions sir," Hermione said, trying not to moan at the way he glowered at her in disappointment.

An outraged voice from behind her called out, "You don't have to take this, Hermione!"

Hermione bit her lip. Oh, Harry. How could she possibly make him understand that she _wanted_ it?

"Mister Potter," Snape drawled. "If I required your opinion, I would ask for it." 

Hermione didn't dare turn around, but she could well imagine the utter look of disgust on Snape's face. She sunk her now-perfect incisors just a bit deeper into the sensitive flesh of her bottom lip, mulling over those few seconds when he had said, ‘I see no difference.’ Three years later, and she still trembled in the memory of _how_ he said it. 

“Two points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn! And if you do not wish to be docked further, you will return to your potion.” 

Smiling, she listened to the shuffle of a dozen students returning to work. Hermione rubbed her thighs together, trying to relieve the ache between them. Yet, suddenly, Snape was in her personal space, again, and nearly pressed flush against her back. Leaning down, he hissed menacingly in her ear, “Miss Granger, you have neglected your task. How very unlike you.” 

Turning on his heel, Snape marched slowly towards the chalkboard. Each step connected heavily with the floors of the dungeon, cutting through the tense silence. 

“Come.” He spoke calmly as he turned abruptly to face her again. The tone of his voice belied the irony in his black eyes as Hermione crossed the distance to where he stood, quite sheepishly. 

Seizing her the collar of her uniform when she approached, Snape’s cold fingers brushed up against the edge of her neckline. Hermione could sense he was lingering – feeling, _relishing,_ in that small patch of exposed skin. Then he brusquely thrust her forward, pointing a long index finger to the second to last line scribbled on the board. 

“Read. It.” Snape leered at her, removing his hand from her person and slowly crossing his arms across the front of his rather intimidatingly broad chest. He had even donned a look of total amusement, and satisfaction. 

“Step–” Hermione stuttered over the ‘p’ sound, her puffy bottom lip stinging from the extra attention it had received in such a short amount of time. “Step one: crush,” she panted,”the billywig stingers.” 

_Merlin._

Hermione wanted him to _crush_ her, verbally, as well as up against a wall with his long, strong body. She wanted him to _sting_ her with that wit, again. This distraction from the words of the instructions was exactly why she fumbled the potion in the first place. 

Tears pricked her eyes. She wasn’t sure she could finish reading the list. Maybe he chose it on purpose? The brilliant bastard. 

Snape stepped up behind her once more, brushing the ruffled fabric of her collar flat, while speaking more loudly than necessary, “Do you _always_ struggle to speak with a hot breath on your ear? A hand at your neck? Does _no one_ assist you with your _verbal expressions_ in a moment of _intense scrutiny?”_

She swallowed a strangled breath and closed her eyes, counting the seconds until her dim-witted boyfriend figured it out. 

_... Seven ..._ _Eight ..._ _Nine ..._

“Oi!” came the indignant exclamation from the front row. “You can’t just–”

“I can!” Snape barked before he lowered his voice in a sensual promise. “ _And I will._ Two more points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. I suggest you keep your mouth shut before you prove just how much Miss Granger requires a _larger brain_ to stimulate her.” 

Bloody hell, she could hear the sneer in his voice. 

"Look!" Draco Malfoy trumpeted from behind Hermione and Snape, just off to the side at a workbench, most likely. "Granger's gone and wet herself!" 

_No..._

_Oh, fucking Merlin, no!_

Hermione's mind screamed, unable to stop the whimpering moan that escaped through the grit of her teeth and thin press of her lips at Snape's cutting remark to Ron. She was dripping down her thighs, and obviously bloody Malfoy had caught a glimpse of the gleaming smear after rubbing her legs together. This was beyond humiliating, and it was only feeding the fire boiling in her veins. 

"No." Snape's voice cut through the uproar of student laughter, and Hermione could _feel_ the smirk in his tone. "Miss Granger has not _soiled_ herself, Mr. Malfoy... She is _enjoying_ herself a great deal. Twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, and detention tonight at 8 sharp. Now get out of my class. And clean yourself up."

Hermione wasn't so sure her legs were going to work. She wasn't so sure she wanted them to. Mechanically, she forced one foot in front of the other, wobbling as she went to retrieve her bag.

"Stop," Snape uttered, slow and dangerous.

She froze, with him once again at her back, but now facing the class as half of them pretended to continue to work and the other half openly watched the show. She glanced at the clock. If she could just survive five more minutes, they'd be dismissed, and she could go back to her dorm and frig herself to death. She may as well. There was no way she could face her classmates again. And what a way to go!

"You are leaving a trail, Miss Granger, and you need to clean it up before you go. Is there any bit of your sodding knickers dry enough to mop up your filthy drippings?"

Maybe there had been before he had unleashed that last barb, but not anymore.

"Pity," he said. "You had better take them off."

He leered, but then he sneered. "And your pilled old jumper will suffice for a cleaning rag."

Hermione trembled, but she reached up under her skirt and hooked her hands over the waistband of her panties, obediently pulling them to the floor. Her face flamed bright red as she realized he probably caught a good view at the cheeks of her bum as she did so.

"Hmm," hummed Snape, snatching her knickers out of her grasp with inhuman reflexes. He was smirking as he held up the frilly scrap of supple satin and lace for the entire class to take a look. There were plenty of snickers, a few gasps, and she could hear Malfoy braying like a damned ass. "Actually, Miss Granger... There seems to be a massive puddle by the chalkboard. Do not forget to scrub that up, as well." 

Crouching down, Hermione kept her legs firmly pressed together as she pulled her heavy sweater up over her head in one swift motion. Facing away from Snape still, she set about wiping away the little drops of arousal from the harsh stone floor. It was difficult to keep her legs connected as she wiggled backwards, so as to not give Malfoy another reason to call her out, or to give the class a full show of how well groomed she kept her pussy. That would surely be all over the school before dinner. 

Of course, Snape would stop her with a firm boot pressing upwards into her backside as she tried to crab-walk around him. "Hands and knees. Put your back into it." 

She could disobey him. There wasn't much he could do other than assign her more detentions. But she liked the notion of, _What would happen next?_

Without her robes on, her skirt rode up over her rounded rump as she fell forward onto her hands and knees. The floor scuffed at the skin of her palms, grit biting into the abrasions as she leaned, supporting most of her weight on one arm. Her cunt was hot, wet and throbbing, and she couldn't help the shiver that ran through her when it was exposed to the contradicting air in the potions classroom; humid but cold. 

Her knees scraped over the floor as she tried to back up to clean her mess, instead of turning around and showing off her arse and exposed pussy to the entire room. Hermione could already see Harry and Ron fuming silently out of the corner of her eye. There was a tension in the room, and turning around to reveal herself as Snape demeaned her would be the equivalent to putting a lit match in a powder keg.

As she examined her handiwork, wanting to be certain she cleaned every stray drop, she felt a shaking wave of magic flow through the room. Hermione snapped her head up to look, and saw Snape was casting at the door.

"For the dunderheads among you, I shall explain. It's a projection-compulsion ward. As you leave through the doorway today, be aware that opening your mouth to speak of today's lesson will involve explaining, in excruciating detail, the aspects which you yourself most desperately desire."

Hermione shuddered. Clever git knew how to make them all sweat. Anyone who said a word about what they saw today would be admitting they wanted it for themselves. She bit her lip again, wincing at the tender flesh, as she pictured the blushing faces of her classmates as they tried to gossip.

"Dismissed!"

Hermione closed her eyes and said a little thank-you prayer to any gods listening that this was nearly finished. When she no longer heard any feet shuffling across the stones, she looked up, and she blushed a deep crimson.

Everyone was gone. Everyone except Snape... 

And Harry and Ron.

"If you think for one moment we're going to leave you alone with Hermione, you've got another thing coming, Snape!" Harry growled, eyes narrowed. He fingered his wand, as well, just in case he needed to get Hermione out of there quickly. 

"Come on, ‘Mione, we're leaving!" Ron exclaimed pushing his chair back and stalking over to her. He wrapped a large hand around her wrist, tugging her towards the door.

Ron’s face was red with anger and Hermione didn't know what to do. A part of her wanted to stay and get berated by Snape but the part of her that loved Ron, wanted the redhead to chew her out in front of everyone in the common room. Hermione felt her pussy clench in anticipation of what was to come and reached out to place a hand on Ron's shoulder and shook her head.

Hermione watched as Snape slithered around the edge of his desk until he faced the trio. His eyes narrowed as he cleared his throat and placed both hands flat on the table, the paleness of his face appearing ghostly behind the curtain of black hair surrounding it. Snape said, “You are free to leave, Miss Granger. It is what you do best, after all. Always plodding around the castle after Potter and Weasley–Like a dog without a home.” 

A look of disinterest washed over his face, even as he smirked at her, her eyes furrowed with uneasiness. Hermione felt her pussy tighten. She watched him sit back in his chair and pick up a quill, briskly dipping it into an ink pot before proceeding to grade parchments. He was so in control of his emotions, so rigid and unyielding. Physically and mentally, he revealed very little. 

She wanted to rip each of his buttons off with her teeth, one by one, just to see him less immaculately put together.

The suddenness of Ron’s hand still wrapped around her waist gently nudging her towards the door felt nauseating in that moment. 

Hermione choked down the bile and quietly pleaded with the hot-headed Gryffindor. “No, Ron. I have to serve detention–Now, or later. It’ll only be worse if I leave now.” 

Ron spluttered indignantly, looking at her as if she'd grown an extra head. He looked to Harry to see if he would back him up, but found his friend had already disappeared. Cursing under his breath, he released Hermione and tore out the Potions' classroom, not wanting to stay a moment longer than necessary.

A bubble of hope rose in Hermione's chest. Even as she turned to look at the professor still grading assignments, he went about his business as though she weren’t present. Licking her lips nervously, she walked over to his desk, waiting for his instruction. Hermione allowed her mind to wander as she watched him. Her eyes zoned in on his long ink stained fingers. Swallowing with a certain degree of difficulty, Hermione tried to imagine what those fingers would feel like buried deep in her cunt, pressing against her g-spot, making her cum so hard that she’d leave a massive puddle on the dark grain of his desk. 

Closing her eyes, Hermione bit her lip again, so engrossed in the fantasy of Professor Snape, and what she imagined was the thickest, longest cock she’d ever see in her life. The imagined sensation of her tight quim stretching – so incredibly _full_ – ghosted through her, a pale comparison to reality, she had to assume. Her hand wandered under her skirt, seeking out her clit. Unaware that Snape had set aside his quill and had begun watching her, Hermione rubbed herself slowly. She circled her clit several times before slipping two fingers inside of her, a long moan escaping her chest. Soft, wet sounds echoed in the cavernous room, and her fingers started to move faster, seeking out her orgasm which was– 

Oh, Merlin, she was close. 

So fucking close. 

_Just a little more..._

"Miss Granger!"

Cunt clamping down around her fingers, Hermione squeaked,"Oh!" 

Snape was speaking, but she could hardly hear him over the rush of heat through her body, the roar of blood in her ears, the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her legs shook unsteadily, while her eyes remained shut, and she didn’t know if she would ever come down from such a satisfying high. 

"–and I did not give you permission to come."

Breathless, Hermione opened her eyes, but Snape was no longer in front of her. He was bending her over from behind, flipping up her skirt and smacking her bare bottom with the open palm of his hand. Her reflex was to jump, but all that did was cause her bottom to jiggle and wiggle enticingly for him.

Snape smacked it again, and then he ran his hand over the stinging flesh. "Control, Miss Granger. Employ it."

She moaned, and for that she got another hard slap to her arse.

Then he collected a handful of her wild hair, scraping it off her left cheek and pressing the side of her face down on his desk. There was still some parchment or other, covered in ink, and she could feel the oil smear across her cheek. She couldn't see, but she could hear the zip of his fly, and her breathing increased yet again, chest heaving against the cool surface of polished wood.

That was how he took her. 

Thrusting his cock inside her soaked cunt, and pounding her relentlessly. She moaned like a filthy slut while he kept her pinned down on his desk. It wasn't long before he tensed, pressing in deep, and then Hermione felt the flood of cum. No moans, no grunts, Snape mechanically and roughly _used_ her, like she was nothing more than a hole. He did chuckle as he tucked himself back into his trousers, but it was humorless, more menacing, and a thrill shot up her spine. 

Then he spoke. “Now let’s see your face.” 

She managed to lift it up, glancing down at the parchment she had been pressed against.

~

**ɈowƧ**

~

Hermione wasn't daft. She was quite brilliant herself, actually, no matter what Snape had to say. She knew how that would transfer to print across her cheek. He must have written it backward on purpose, while she was shamelessly masturbating in front of him. The idea of returning to Gryffindor Tower with the word on display had her trembling with anticipation and anxiety in a heady, chaotic whirlwind that stole the breath from her lungs. Merlin, she’d give anything for him to lay into her one more time and eviscerate her as he did it. 

Turning slowly, Hermione saw the smirk bloom across his lips. He purred in that dangerously low, predatory drawl that made her want to touch herself again. “Perfect. The only perfect thing you’ve all all day. Best quit while you’re ahead.” 

  
Hermione gulped, grabbing her bag, and ran. She could have spelled off the ink from her face, but by the time she got to the common room, she was smirking. He had branded her. She was _his_ swot now. And if anyone dared to say a word about it, they'd be admitting they wanted the same treatment, too.


	2. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

Lying on her bed, a massive grin on her face, Hermione was tempted to finally seek out her own pleasure until she remembered Snape's words,  _ I did not give you permission to come. _ After a quick shower, she was disappointed to see that the ink was now gone, even though she could still feel the word emblazoned across her skin.

Walking into the Great Hall, her eyes instantly sought out his as she made her way over to the Gryffindor table. She was so lost in the memory of his cock in her pussy that she ploughed straight into Malfoy, bouncing off his broad chest onto the floor and displaying her bare cunt to the Slytherins. Her cheeks flamed hot, and she quickly went to cover herself. Eyes flicking between the smirking blonde and the unimpressed look on Snape's face, Hermione got to her feet and gave Malfoy a cursory apology before sitting between Ron and Harry.

Twenty minutes later, mishap forgotten, she laughed when Ginny regaled her with stories from her childhood, like the way Charlie would sneak her chocolate when her mum wasn't looking. A tap on her shoulder made her jump. Cheeks burning as she took in the surly face of her Potions Professor, she swallowed, unsure as to why he was there.

Snape leaned forward and moved Hermione's brown curls aside with the tip of his wand, revealing a bright red ear. He felt the slivered eyes of both Potter and Weasley boring into him, making his manipulation of Granger all the more thrilling. "It seems you're determined to continue earning detention. Showing your cunt to Malfoy... my cum still dripping down your thighs…  _ How revolting _ ," Snape whispered into her ear, his hot breath stroking the back of her neck and traveling all the way down her spine straight to her cunt. "Get up," he snarled as he retreated his wand and grabbed her by the back of the collar. 

"You have no right to treat her like this... like some sort of animal," Ron protested as he slammed a closed fist on the table and stood up, glaring in Snape's direction. "Hermione's already done her detention..." Ron continued as Harry stood up as well, both looking as though they were ready to hurtle across the table and pounce on Snape. 

"If you're so preoccupied with Miss Granger's safety," He waved with his free hand towards the girl as he held her like one of his possessions with the other. "Then you are more than welcome to join us." Hermione could hear the smirk forming on his lips as he uttered the words. "Right, Miss Granger?" asked Snape as his fingers curled tighter around the collar of her undershirt.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Sir, I thought I had served --"

"Miss Granger, were you really so foolish as to believe that staying after for five minutes would fulfill your detention?"

She gulped, all desire to defy him squashed. "No, sir."

He leaned down to whisper again, "Come along then."

Her pussy clenched, and her eyes shut for just a second, but when she opened them he was already walking away, and Hermione jumped to her feet to follow him.

"But you haven't eaten!" called Harry.

Ron sprang to his feet. "I'm going after her. If he touches her again, I'm going to kill him."

"Weasley's decided to join us," Snape remarked, unimpressed as Ron hurried behind them, his steps clumsy and disjointed. It was a miracle for the boy that quidditch was played on a broom. They reached his office down in the depths of the dungeons and the door swung open as though it had recognized Snape's appearance.

Hermione was trembling by the time Snape released her at his desk. The man's seed, as well as her own arousal, was still dripping heavily down her legs. Her socks were cold and damp. The scent of stale smoke and soap lingered in the air, underpinned by the lingering essence of sex. 

It was...  _ heady _ .

With the wards going up behind him, Ron skidded to a halt and panicked. The three of them stood there, between the desk and the front table, and Ron wasn't sure what to make of Hermione's blushing face and the git's smirk that slid from her to him.

_ Oh bugger me _ , he thought, before his thoughts were overrun by the ones that Snape rifled through with legilimency.

Snape lingered for quite some time on the threat that Ron had just made. Then he withdrew and turned to Hermione and said, "Mister Weasley believes that I should not touch you again."

Hermione whimpered, and Ron's eyes went wide. She had never made that sound for  _ him _ .

"Pathetic, isn't he? I don't actually have to touch you to get you to respond, Miss Granger; you are not that complex of a puzzle. Though I am tempted to show Mister Weasley exactly what a real man can do, perhaps he requires... remedial instruction."

Ron gulped, and he felt heat rise in his neck and cheeks. Snape had Hermione dripping like a faucet. It was disgusting, but some teeny tiny spark of intelligence at the back of his mind said, _ shut up and learn something! _

It sounded like Hermione, actually.

And then Hermione actually spoke, and she said, "Oh, please sir. I just --"

"Be quiet," Snape hissed, "This is your consequence for making such a mess and disturbing the class today."

"But she already cleaned --"

"Silence!"

Ron  _ silenced _ , biting hard on his own tongue to keep it in check. His breath came up shallow, inhaling the heady musk of the room and blushing harder still at the way his exposed skin tingled. Merlin, what was wrong with him?

Snape glared and said, "Miss Granger, sit on the table, right on the edge, and spread your legs."

She promptly obeyed, and Ron was sickened by the hungry look in Snape's eyes.

Then Snape whipped his head around to Ron and spat, "You fool."

He blinked in surprise.

Snape drew his wand and summoned one of the chairs to prop directly in front of Hermione. Whoever sat in that chair would get a facefull of pussy. "Aside from thinking it too loudly, you are so utterly wrong about the feast before you. A creamy young cunt is delicious. The first thing you will learn is to savor it, unless you wish to be doomed to mediocre rutting for the rest of your miserable existence."

Hermione watched as Ron stumbled forward, as if he were a puppet being dragged to the chair by a master. There was a bland look of confusion obscuring the usually pinched befuddlement that her beau wore practically daily. Yet, there had been no ripple of magic in the air that would allude to Snape putting Ron under the Imperius Curse. 

But Ron did shuffle along, pulling his robes off to lay forgotten on a workbench and loosening his Gryffindor tie. The sleeves of his uniform were rolled up to the elbows, displaying the smattering of freckles over pale hands and forearms. Her gaze bounced between the dark, leering gleam of Snape's eyes and sensual curve of his lips, and Ron's scrawny features, not yet having filled in to the athletic frame that most Weasley men were born with. 

"Sit, Mr. Weasley," Snape sneered, shoving the ginger down into the chair and forcing his face between Hermione's thighs, "and take it in." 

Hermione could feel Ron's hot breath coasting over her sensitive sex, despite the inches of distance between his mouth and her clit. She wanted to be touched. _ Needed it. _

But Snape hadn't given her permission... yet.

Instruction came in the form of Snape sneering at Ron, ordering the young man about, while also further humiliating Hermione in the process. "Look at it, Weasley. Embrace the knowledge that her cunt is fresh, tight, and  _ young _ ." 

Hermione's pussy clenched, flaring with life to be on display, to be admired. 

"No matter how unpleasant your little  _ girlfriend _ is in appearance, as an annoying, insufferable swot," Snape paused, tangling his fingers in Ron's hair and curling them in a vicious grip, "she will always possess this perfect cunt." 

Dear fucking Merlin, Ron  _ sniffed _ her. He inhaled deeply, eyes tracing every fold, every line, the shape of her neatly trimmed hair, and the way her sex reacted to each growling dip and sprawling drawl of Professor Snape's voice. 

Then Ron looked up at her in awe, face flushed a violent shade of red, pupils blown, and features contorted in a painful grimace, while Snape appeared calm, collected, and... quite pleased with himself.

Hermione bit her lip as she looked from Snape to the flushed, lust-filled eyes of her boyfriend. She had never been so turned on in all her life as she was at this moment. Even though she knew Ron would be unable to tell anyone about this moment, the knowledge of what they'd shared would be with them forever. She just wished, Snape would hurry up and kick Ron out. She needed his touch. His cock. Her clit throbbed painfully, and the way Ron's breath kept ghosting over her slit was making her feel almost incoherent with need.

"Professor... please," Hermione begged, loving the feel of being on display, even if it was just Ron who was looking at her most intimate place.

Snape's cold and cavernous voice cut through the air like a machete as he placed a warm hand on Hermione's knee and traced it along the length of her thigh. "Weasley looks more perplexed than he usually does, wouldn't you say so yourself, Miss Granger?" His hand stopped only when it had reached her groin, where he pushed with his thumb against the flesh of her inner thigh, spreading her legs farther apart, his penetrating black glare resolute. 

"Has he never seen your cunt so wet?" asked Snape with a forged look of concern upon his face. Hermione could tell he was preparing to scourge Ron, whose expression was difficult to scrutinize, which usually meant he was unsure of himself. Ron's feelings of inadequacy made her squirm underneath Snape's grip. He was now gently stroking the top of her thigh, and it was clear to her that Snape was getting off on this as much as she was.

"Answer, Miss Granger." Snape snarled in that low, rumbling, authoritative manner of his that ripped through her instantly. 

Hermione fought that intrinsic compulsion to obey, legs quivering as they dangled over the edge of the Potions Master's desk. She could not answer that, whatever punishment the professor had planned be damned. There was no feasible instance in which Ron would take the trust with a positive view. It would devastate him, and Hermione knew he'd lash out. 

Snape, of course, was having none of it when obstinance and refusal were concerned. He lived to cut people down. There would be no sparing Ron's feelings. "Tell him,  _ Hermione. _ " 

Fuck.

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as she let out a whispered, "No."

"Say that again, Miss Granger. I don't think Mr. Weasley heard you fully," Snape said with a sneer as Ron looked at him in befuddlement.

"No, sir," Hermione said louder, covering her face to try and hide the hurt that must be reflected on Ron's face in that moment.

"Do you hear that, Weasley? You have never been able nor will you ever be able to get Miss Granger sopping wet. Do you see how she glistens? How her clit throbs with need? Did you want to touch, boy?" Severus asked the redhead as he circled the desk, his eyes firmly on Hermione's face.

Ron gave a shaky nod and reached out to place a hand on Hermione's pussy, gasping at the juices that gushed out coating his hand. She'd never been this responsive with him. In all honesty, he'd thought her a cold, frigid bitch who didn't want to fuck him. What did that mean then, that she was now dripping onto the floor?

Severus watched as Hermione gave a laughable attempt of control. Still, the attempt was worth something.

"Look at that needy, tight, little  _ cunt, _ " Severus hissed at both of them, knowing how much differently the two would take his words. "Tell him what you  _ need _ , Hermione." He let just a bit of the Northern rough creep out from his usual practiced elocution. "Tell him what makes you soak my desk."

Hermione shuddered, eyes barely open as she stared at Ron. She knew she should probably be feeling more from his nervous, wandering fingers, but it was as if he was another kind of furniture, or a sex toy instead of her brash, Gryffindor boyfriend. "Please, sir..." She panted.

Whip quick, Severus' hand wrapped in her dense tangle of hair and pulled her head back. He smirked as she moaned. 

"That isn't what I asked, _ Miss Granger. _ Good girls don't beg for mercy. They  _ take _ what they've  _ earned. _ " He tugged her hair again. "Tell him  _ what you need. _ "

Hermione had very little mind left with which to think, and her throat burned with need as she answered: "You, sir!"

"Miss Granger, you don't know what you want, because this  _ side-kick _ has never shown you what a real man can do, but I will oblige. I have to admit a certain appeal in teaching the resident know-it-all something utterly primal."

He released her, and she dropped, knocking her head back on the desk. Tears stung in her eyes, but she was hot and itching for more of that verbal abuse. Toward her, at Ron, hell Snape could snark about anyone right now and she'd just keep gushing. She saw the war between rage and desire in Ron's face, as the boy's eyes shifted between glaring at the Potions Master and yearning at his own stroking fingers.

"Weasley, get up and stand behind her." Ron hesitated, and Snape hissed, "Are you deaf as well as incompetent?"

Ron hurried to obey.

Snape lifted one foot to the edge of the chair that Ron just vacated, and he pushed it gently to the side. "Now, Miss Granger, lean all the way back, yes, that's right, so you  _ can _ obey." He stepped up between her legs, and her heart sang and her body hummed, and then he was touching her, running his hands up her thighs, bunching up her skirt, then drifting up her torso and guiding her to lift her arms back above her head. "Here, Weasley, right here and here. Hold her wrists down."

Hermione moaned as the number of hands groping her doubled.

Once again Snape was quick and mechanical and  _ used _ her aching pussy. She felt so full of him and yet consumed by him, and she was so close. So close.

She could watch him this time, and she saw the way he glared at her, right up until the moment he shut his eyes, pumped hard and filled her up with a fresh new load of cum.

Hermione came, too. That was her cum now, her prize, and she shuddered around their slippery, sloppy joining. Sometime among all her shudders she had shut her eyes, and when she felt Snape withdraw, she opened them, only to see Ron's crushed expression looking down at her.

He looked just like a little boy whose toy was broken by a bully.

"Resume your seat, Weasley." 

Snape wasn't even out of breath. Smoothing down the lines of his jacket, it was like he hadn't touched Hermione, at all. Perfectly put together. No evidence that he had done anything, except for his cum dribbling from her flushed cunt. 

And Ronald... 

Poor, Ronald.

Hermione flinched as Ron dragged the chair over the flagged stone floor. Heart clenching, she couldn't bear to see the ashen pull of his features under the splotches of red burning through his complexion. There was still anger there, but also devastation. Snape had taken away the one thing Ron had thought was truly his: Hermione's affection, desire, and love. It was evident in his eyes. Those bright blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. And she couldn't decipher her own mind to explain it all to him properly. 

There was no love for Snape. No affection, either. Hermione desired the man, and what he could do to her with the sharp edge of his tongue, the impossibly large cock that stretched her to a point of pleasure and pain. But she didn't love him. She wouldn't love him. 

"Lean forward, Weasley." Snape ordered, taking Ron by the scruff of his neck and pushing his face closer to Hermione's fluttering folds.  _ "Clean her." _

Hermione tensed, waiting. 

Ron would refuse. He would rage, and give in to his desire to throttle Snape. She was sure of it. There was no possible way he would obey--

The hot, flat plane of Ron's tongue pressed hesitantly at the bottom of her slit, and Hermione gasped, rigid and intrigued. She could hear him sniffling, but he had  _ obeyed _ Snape. Ron's tongue firmed, and the tip dipped into her cunt as he licked up. The act smeared Snape's seed over her lips, her clit, and Hermione shook with knowledge that  _ Ron's tongue  _ was responsible for it. 

"Now swallow it." The Potions Master hissed, that natural, sadistic gleam returning to his dark, Stygian eyes. "Swallow, boy!" 

Dear fucking Merlin, Hermione was close already. 

Ron did as Snape commanded. Again, again, and again. 

_ Lick her, again. Suck her clit. Fuck her with your tongue, Weasley. _

"Are you a complete imbecile, boy? Cut her down! Humiliate her with words and she'll be yours.  _ Always. _ "


End file.
